


Of Great Peace and Stars

by Pr_Anx



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Aliens, Background Tina Dayton/Ray Narvaez Jr., Eventual Gavin Free/Michael Jones, Eventual Jack Pattillo/Geoff Ramsey, F/M, Lots of damn aliens, M/M, Space AU, space travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-03-25 11:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3808144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pr_Anx/pseuds/Pr_Anx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geoff Ramsey is an old human who's grown bored with having lived too fully for far too many years.  On the night of his two hundred thirty-ninth birthday, he's given a nice surprise -two aliens known as Puppeteers coming out of hiding seeking his aid with some sort of exploration.  The hitch?  They won't tell him what it's all about and he's pretty sure he's made a huge mistake in agreeing to come along.<br/>How could any of them possibly function together and where, in the name of anything sane, are they headed?<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Geoff Ramsey

**Author's Note:**

> This's basically an introduction chapter, the rest will have a bit more movement -pinky promise~  
> I have no clue why I stared this fic or where it's going, but I hope you guys enjoy reading it!
> 
> Also, sorry for any mistakes, I don't really have a beta and I'm horrid at editing.

In the nighttime heart of Beirut, in one of a row of general-address Transfer Booths, Geoff Ramsey flicked into reality.

For a few moments, he watched Beirut stream past him, the people flickering into the small, circular glass tubes, known as Transfer Booths, from unknown places. The crowds flowing past him on foot, now that the slideways had been turned off for the night. The clocks began to strike twenty-three. Geoff straightened his shoulders and stepped out to join the world.

In Resht, where his party was still going full blast, it was already the morning after his birthday –here in Beirut it was an hour earlier. 

In a balmy outdoor restaurant, Geoff bought rounds of raki and encouraged the singing of songs in Interworld, leaving just before midnight for Budapest.

He doubted they’d even realized he’d walked out on his own party. They’d assume a woman had gone with him, that he’d be back in a couple hours, but Geoff had gone alone –jumping ahead of the midnight line, hotly pursued by the new day. Twenty-four hours was not long enough for a man’s two hundred thirty-ninth birthday.

They could get along without him.

Budapest was wine and athletic dances, natives who tolerated him as a tourist with money, tourists who thought he was a wealthy native. He danced the dances, drank the wines, and left before midnight.  
In Munich, he walked.

The air was warm and clean –clearing some of the fumes from his head. He walked the brightly lit slideways, adding his own pace to their ten-miles-per-hour speed. It occurred to him then, that every city in the world had slideways, and that they all moved at ten miles per hour.

The thought was intolerable. Not new, just intolerable.

Geoff saw how thoroughly Munich resembled Cairo and Resht –and San Francisco and Topeka and London and Amsterdam…

The stores along the slideways sold the same products in all the cities of the world. The citizens that passed him looked all alike, dressed all alike. Not Americans or Germans or Egyptians, but flatlanders.

In three and a half centuries, the Transfer Booths had done this to the infinite variety of Earth. They covered the world in a net of instantaneous travel –the difference between Moskva and Sidney was a moment of time and a tenth-star coin. Inevitably, the cities had blended of the centuries, until place names were only relics of the past.

San Francisco and San Diego were the northern and southern ends of one sprawling coastal city. But how many people knew which end was which?  
These days, very few.

But the blending of the cities was real. Geoff had watched it happen –all the irrationalities of place and time and custom blending into one big rationality called City like a dull gray paste. Over half the world spoke Interworld, the other half consisted of alien beings who spoke their own, garbled, unintelligible language. 

Geoff sighed, deep and languid, the warm air seeping slowly into his lungs.

“I need a vacation.” He mumbled to the night air. “Just got back from one, though.” _Twenty years ago_.

It was nearing one when Geoff found a Transfer Booth, inserted his credit card, and dialed for Sevilla.  
-0-0-  
And emerged in a sunlit room.

“What the fuck?” He wondered, blinking into the startling light. Something must’ve gone wrong with the Transfer Booth –there was no sunlight in Sevilla. Out of the hundreds of Booths to choose from, of course he’d find the broken one. 

Geoff dialed again, then turned around and stared.

He was in a thoroughly anonymous hotel room decorated in what could only be described as early 1990’s –a setting prosaic enough to make its occupant doubly shocking.

Facing him from the middle of the room was a boy or man –Geoff couldn’t decide, and they looked oddly young and old at the same time somehow –stuck between twelve and twenty-something.

They stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, regarding Geoff like some sort of ancient monument –awe inspired but confused. Over their shoulders, Geoff could see two brown, feathery lumps he guessed were wings. Their skin was bronzed, with patches of feathers poking through the skin of his elbows and collarbone. 

The sunlight streaming through the grand bay window seemed to light up their eyes –bioluminescent green against shadows and tanned skin. It would’ve been breathtaking had it not been so frightening. 

Geoff had never seen someone like this before –someone with actual fucking wings and actual glowing eyes- so the only guess he had was they were a newer resident of City. He thought back through the species he’d seen through his lifetime –all the odd, loud, hairy, creepy or scary alien creatures and peoples Geoff had the pleasure of not meeting face to face without necessity.

The boy –or man- smiled at him meekly, apparently noticing his examining stare.

Geoff tried the Booth door. Locked –again, just his damn luck.

He was locked out, not in, and could dial and vanish any time, but it never occurred to him. One does not get the chance to meet a –possibly- new species every day.

“Can I…help you?” Geoff asked after another moment of quiet observation.

“You can. Well, I mean, I think you can. I’m sure you can.” The alien rambled. Definitely a boy –the voice was way too young to be any older than sixteen -seventeen at most. “Yes, you can.”

Geoff couldn’t help but think about the boy’s accent –something akin to what Londoners used to sound like, lilting, heavy, annoying. Someone who looked like this boy did, did not deserve that shitty accent.

“I’m not agreeing to anything.”

“You don’t have to. I mean, not unless you want to.” Geoff wanted to ask the boy if he was okay, but it felt like it would be too out of place in whatever kind of conversation this was turning out to be. “Do you know what I am?”

“Not a clue.”

“Oh, okay. Are you Geoff Ramsey?” The abrupt change in conversation almost gave Geoff whiplash.

“Why? Are you after me for something?”

“No! No –well, yes. Kind of? Bloody hell this’s difficult.”

“Look, kid, just start from the beginning. Who and what are you, and how the shit do you know my name?”

“Okay, okay, sorry. My name is Gavin and I’m a Puppeteer.” Geoff’s eyes widened. A Puppeteer –a species that had been gone from Known Space for longer than Geoff had been alive.

“Where have you been hiding? And where the hell are we?”

“Well, I don’t know the whole story. I wasn’t around when my species fled Known Space.” Gavin replied with a shrug. “I got called back to Earth two days ago to manipulate this world’s network of Transfer Booths so you’d end up here.”

It could be done, Geoff realized. It would take a fortune in bribe money, but it could be done. But- “Why?”

“It’ll take a bit to explain-“

“You gonna let me out of here?”

Gavin seemed to consider it, mouth pinched into a thin line. “I guess I could. But, you should know I have protection.”

“We’re not having sex.” Geoff almost laughed at the horrified expression on Gavin’s face.

“I-I meant my guard would stop you if you attacked me.” Geoff made a sound of disgust.

“Why would I do that?” The Puppeteer remained silent, shyly looking down at the floor between them.

“Now I remember,” Geoff grumbled, “You’re cowards. Your whole ethical system is based on cowardice.”

“That’s not true, but it’s your opinion.”

“Well, it could be worse,” Geoff conceded. Every sentient species had its quirks. Surely, the Puppeteer would be easier to deal with than the racially paranoid Trinocs or the Kzinti with their hair-trigger killer instincts or the sessile Grogs with their disturbing _substitute_ for hands.

The sight of the Puppeteer had jarred loose a whole attic full of dusty memories. Mixed with data on the Puppeteers and their commercial empire, their interactions with humanity, their sudden and shocking disappearance –mixed with these were the buzz of Geoff’s first tattoo, the feel of a gaming controller under clumsy, untrained fingers, lists of Interworld vocabulary to be memorized, the sound and taste of English, the uncertainties and embarrassments of extreme youth.

He’d studied the Puppeteers during an embarrassingly short college stay, then forgotten about them for nearly one hundred and sixty-odd years. 

“So, you going to let me out of here?” Geoff asked, motioning to the still-closed glass Booth door. Gavin nodded and Geoff watched as the boy’s wings twitched and spasmed as the Puppeteer nerved itself. The door to the Transfer Booth clicked open, allowing Geoff to finally leave its claustrophobic innards.

The Puppeteer backed away a few paces, allowing Geoff to flop carelessly into a chair –more for the winged boy’s comfort than for his own. The poor boy seemed to be ready to take off at a moment’s notice, and Geoff knew he’d look way more harmless sitting down. 

Gavin’s wings fluttered once again before the boy took the chair across from him –though he seemed to have a hard time adjusting to the chair’s cushioned back. Geoff waited until he was comfortable, wings stretched over the armrests delicately, before relaxing himself. 

“So why am I here?”

“That will take some explanation. Do you know anything about my species?”

“It’s been a long time since college.” Geoff admitted, “You guys had a commercial empire once, didn’t you? Known Space was just part of it. We know the Trinocs bought from you, and we didn’t meet the Trinocs until twenty years ago.”

“Yeah, we dealt with the Trinocs.” 

“Through robots, you forget.” Another voice butts in. Geoff turned his attention towards the now open hotel room door. Another Puppeteer stood in the glaring light of the hallway, wings folded tightly against his back, feather tufts less visible, curly rusted brown hair giving him an interesting profile –the glowing amber eyes making them more fearsome looking.

“And who are you?”

“Michael. I’m his guard.” Michael nodded towards Gavin who was, once again, staring shyly at the floor. “He was taking too long to check in.” 

“So you came in to make sure I hadn’t done what, exactly?”

“Humans are still new to us, asshole, keep the snippy comments to yourself.” Geoff didn’t know what he originally thought about the Puppeteers –though he remembered reading about how regal and sophisticated they were- but he knew these two didn’t fit the bill.

They were disheveled looking –their tunics creased and rumpled, hair looking like it needed to be attacked thoroughly with a brush. Not as regal as they should’ve been in Geoff’s opinion. 

And the cursing was a surprise. Most, if not all, alien species thought human cursing and slurs were beneath them –excluding the Trinocs, of course, whose word for _human_ was _inprock_ , meaning impure bastards.

“You had a business empire thousands of years old, at least, and a shit ton of light years across. But you guys left it all behind. Why?”

“We ran from the explosion of the Galactic Core.”

“I know about that,” Dimly, Geoff even remembered that the chain reaction of novae in the hub of the galaxy had actually been discovered by aliens. “But why run now? The core suns went nova ten thousand years ago, the light won’t reach here for another twenty thousand.”

“Humans,” Michael grumbled, “shouldn’t be allowed to run loose. Don’t you see the danger? Radiation along the wave front will make this entire region of the galaxy uninhabitable.”

“Twenty thousand years is a long time.”

“Extermination in twenty thousand years is extermination nonetheless." Michael snapped back, "We fled in the direction of the Clouds of Magellan, but some of us remained, in case the Puppeteer migration should meet danger. Now it has.” 

“Oh? What kind of danger?”

Gavin and Michael shared a look, “I…can’t answer that yet. But you may look at this.” Gavin said as he reached gingerly across to hand Geoff a holographic print. 

At first, it made no sense at all, but he kept looking, waiting for it to resolve. There was a small, intensely white disc that might have been a sun, G0 or K9 or K8, with a shallow chord sliced off along a straight black edge. But the blazing object could not have been a sun. 

Partially behind it, against a space-black background, was a strip of sky blue. The blue strip was perfectly straight, sharp-edged, solid, and artificial, and wider than the lighted disc.

“Looks like a star with a hoop around it,” Geoff murmured, “What is it?”

“You may keep it to study, if you want. We brought you here for a reason. We're trying to from an exploration team of six members, including the two of us, and including you.”

“To explore what?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Oh, come on. I’d have to be shitfaced to jump in as blind as that.”

“Happy two hundred thirty-ninth birthday.”

“Thanks?” Geoff said, bewildered.

“Why did you leave your own party?”

“I can’t tell you.” Geoff responded snippily, grinning at the look of annoyance on both Puppeteer faces.

“Indulge us, Geoffrey, why did you leave your own party?”

“I just decided that twenty-four hours weren’t enough for a two hundred thirty-ninth birthday. So I went ahead and lengthened it my moving ahead of the middling line. As an alien you wouldn’t understand-“

“You were happy, then, at how well things were going?”

“No. Why else would I have left?” Not happy, Geoff remembered. Quite the contrary, even though the party had gone well enough. He’d started it at one minute past midnight that morning. And why not? His friends were in every time band, there was no reason to waste a single minute of this day. 

There were sleep sets all over the house, for fast, deep catnaps. For those who hated to miss anything, there were wake-up drugs, some with interesting side effects, others with none.

There were guests Geoff hadn’t seen in a hundred years, and others he met daily. Some had been Geoff’s deadly enemies, long ago. There were women he had forgotten entirely, so that he was repeatedly amazed at how his taste had changed.

Predictably, too many hours of his birthday were spent performing introductions. The lists of names to be remembered beforehand. Too many friends had become strangers.

And a few minutes before midnight, Geoff Ramsey had walked into a Transfer Booth, dialed, and disappeared.

“I was bored stiff,” He said with a shrug. “ _Tell us about your last vacation, Geoffrey. But how can you stand to be that much alone, Geoffrey? How clever of you to invite the Trinoc ambassador, Geoffrey! Long time no see, Geoffrey. Hey, Geoffrey, why does it take three Jinxians to paint a sky-scraper?_ ” He mocked the partygoers in a high, whiney voice.

“Why does it?” Gavin asked, sincerely confused. Geoff noticed sometime during their conversation, Gavin had leaned forward in his seat. _Like a child waiting for a bedtime story_ , Geoff thought to himself.

“Why does what?”

“The Jinxians.”

“Oh. It takes one to hold the paint sprayer, and two to shake the skyscraper up and down. I heard that one in kindergarten. All the dead wood of my life, all the old jokes, all in one huge house. I couldn’t take it.”

“We know.”

“You know?”

“Well, yeah. We know quite a bit about you, really.” Gavin responded, smiling happily. “We know you’re a restless man. That you get bored of human companionship and you leave the worlds of men for the edge of Known Space. You stay outside Known Space until your need for company comes back.”

Geoff would have been impressed, had the fact they knew that much of him been just a little frightening.

“We know you returned from your last vacation, your fourth, twenty years ago, but you’re starting to get restless again.”

“That would be my problem, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah. Our problem is recruiting only. You would be a good choice as a member of our exploration team. You take risks, but you calculate them first. You aren’t afraid to be alone with yourself. You’re cautious enough and clever enough to still be alive after two hundred thirty-nine years and still barely look out of your twenties.”

“Thanks.” Geoff winked. Countless people had told him the same thing, that he looked barely out of his twenties, but, for some reason, it felt more genuine coming out of a stranger’s mouth. Of course, it could just be them trying to flatter him so he’d say yes.

“You also don’t seem to really give a shit about being stuck around aliens.” Michael chimed in from his position by the door. Geoff’d almost forgotten about the curly-haired Puppeteer.

“Uh, yeah,” Geoff laughed, “life would be really fucking boring with only humans to talk to.”

“We know you don’t want to, uh, how’d you put it?” Gavin questioned.

“Jump in blind.” Geoff reminded him.

“Yeah, that. But isn’t it enough that two Puppeteers will be with you? I mean, the caution of my race is proverbial, really, and what could you possibly be scared of that Michael or I wouldn’t be scared of first?” Geoff heard Michael snort. He seemed to be the sort that feared nothing –whereas Gavin seemed to be the sort to fear something as stupid as wet bread.

But something was drawing him to them both, some curiosity that was pulling him in like some hand-of-fate bullshit. In fact, he was hooked. The restlessness and curiosity combined, he’d follow these two wherever they went. But he really wanted to know more.

And his bargaining position was excellent. An alien would not live in such a room by choice. This reassuringly ordinary-looking room must have been furnished especially for recruiting him.

“You won’t tell me what you two are going to explore?” Gavin shook his head, Michael let out a sarcastic nope!, “Could you at least tell me where it is?”

“Uh?” Geoff watched Gavin’s face change from smiling to confusion as he turned to his curly-haired counterpart.

“It’s about two hundred light years from here in the direction of the Lesser Cloud.” Michael supplied –albeit, grumpily- for Gavin.

“But that would take us, what? Nearly two years to get there at hyperdrive speeds.”

“Not really.” Geoff waited for Gavin to elaborate, but when it was clear the Puppeteer wasn’t going to, he turned to Michael.

“We have a ship that can travel considerably faster than a conventional hyperdrive craft. It’ll cover a light year in five-fourths of a minute.” Michael sighed. He seemed happy enough to be part of the conversation, but, and this was just Geoff’s uneducated guess, he seemed tired of having to answer in his partner’s place.

“And if we’re successful with our mission, we plan to turn the ship over to the crew, with blueprints to build more. The ship is your...fee? Or salary?” Gavin looked to Michael for conformation.

“Basically, our leaders aren’t paying us for this. This ship is the only way we can compensate you for your time and effort. You can observe its flight characteristics when we join the Puppeteer migration. There you can learn what it is we’re going to explore.”

 _Join the Puppeteer migration?_ “Count me in.” The chance to see an entire sentient species on the move, huge ships carrying thousands or millions of Puppeteers each, whole working ecologies…

“Good.” Michael nodded. “There will be six crew members, including you, me and Gavin. We’re going to find our fourth member now.” 

Gavin stood, stretching his wings to get rid of the kinks, and walked over to Michael. Geoff watched as they seemed to have a silent conversation, Michael’s face contorting into a grimace before nodding slowly.

“If you want, you can come with us or you can stay here and we can come get you when the other members have been assembled.” Michael informed him as Gavin made his way into the Transfer Booth.

“If you think I’m staying in this shitty hotel room in God-knows-where, you’re out of your damn mind.” Geoff grumbled. Michael shrugged and together, they joined Gavin.

In the Booth, Geoff tried to read the number on the dial –at least he would know where in the world he was. But Michael dialed too fast. In an instant, they were gone.

-0-0-

Geoff followed the Puppeteers out of the Booth and into the dim, luxurious interior of a restaurant. He recognized the space-wasteful configuration of horseshoe Booths almost immediately. 

Krushenko’s in New York.

Incredulous whispers followed them as a human headwaiter, imperturbable as a robot, led them to a table. Two of the chairs had been removed from the table, replaced by two large square pillows. The Puppeteers sat down happily –Geoff guessed it was because they didn’t have to shove their wings against the back of a chair.

“They were expecting you?”

“Of course. It’s rude not to call ahead.” Michael responded mockingly. Beside him, Gavin laughed.

“Sure, why not. But why here? It’s not really…?” Geoff paused, mind coming up blank.

“Formal?” Gavin supplied.

“Let’s go with that.” Geoff shrugged.

“Krushenko’s is accustomed to serving alien guests. It’s just easier.” Michael said dismissively, as if it should’ve been obvious. Geoff looked around the restaurant, taking note of the other alien diners –four Kzinti at the next table, and a Kdatlyno halfway across the room. 

It figured, with the United Nations building so close.

“Plus, our fourth member lives nearby, so we’re meeting him here.” Geoff grunted in approval –though, in all honesty, he didn’t approve. He hated this place. It stunk like fish and old pizza. He dialed for a rum and coke through the table’s computer and took it as it arrived.

Michael grinned. “You never met our friendly neighborhood Porican, Ray. We like to keep him as a pet.” Geoff’s drink tried to go down wrong. At the table behind the Puppeteers, four men sat –each one a Porican. And, as Michael spoke, they all turned with their needle-sharp teeth bared. It looked like a smile, but on a Porican that rictus was not a smile.

Geoff recognized the name. It belonged to the family of the Patriarch of Porican. Geoff, drowning the rest of his drink, decided that it didn’t matter. The pet insult would be mortal regardless, and you could only be eaten once.  
The nearest Porican stood up.

He was thin and lanky, with pale skin dark hair and brown eyes behind glasses –nothing like what Geoff remembered Porican’s looking like. He was, in a manner of speaking, shockingly Caucasian. He wouldn’t say anything for it, though, Porican’s were fast and deadly –their teeth sharper than any blade, their nails like scalpels.

They were carnivores through and through, and it showed. 

“Wanna tell me why you think it’s a good idea to insult a Patriarch of Porican and live?” Gavin looked like he was about to wet himself, and it was obvious now more than ever, why he needed a guard. Geoff remembered reading somewhere that, though the Puppeteer’s were considered cowards, they never let another species look down on or threaten them without consequences. 

“On a world that circles Beta Lyrae, I fought with many Porican’s against a league of Zyheders. Out-numbered sixty to five, we fought for sixteen days and fifteen nights. We have a need for Porican courage.” Michael answered immediately, without a tremor in his voice.

The Porican laughed –something else Geoff was sure wasn’t the norm for their species, as they’d always been depicted as hard-edged, unsmiling, uncaring and ruthless. “With this guy in your ranks, I’d say so.” He said, poking a finger towards a cowering Gavin –whose wings were ruffled in distress. It was like watching a hungry cat stare down a grounded bird.

Despite the limitations imposed by having such extravagantly sharp teeth, Ray’s Interworld was excellent. 

Geoff spared a glance towards the meal that had been placed at the Porican table, blood raw and steaming. It had been flash-heated to body temperature just before serving.

“The three of us,” Gavin spoke quietly, “will explore a place that no Porican has ever dreamed of. We’ll need a Porican in our crew.”

“Thought you plant-eaters would run away from a battle, not toward one.” Ray smiled wide, as if trying to intimidate the already intimidated Gavin.

“Say what you want, kid. Your fee, if you survive, will be the plans for a new ship and a valuable type of spacecraft, plus, a model of the ship itself. Consider it to be an extreme hazard pay.”  
Michael was sparing nothing by insulting the Porican. One never offered them a hazard pay.

But, the Porican’s only remark was a bored, “I accept.”

The other three Porican’s snarled at him, teeth bared.

Ray snarled back.

Two Porican’s sounded like a catfight. Four Porican’s in heated argument sounded like a major feline war. Sonic deadeners went on automatically in the restaurant, and the snarls became remote, but they went on.  
Geoff ordered another drink. Considering what he knew of Porican history, these four must have remarkable restraint. The Puppeteers still lived –though Gavin still looked ready to keel over at any moment.  
The argument died away, and the four Porican’s turned back. Ray said, “What are your names?”

Michael looked over to Gavin, nodding. 

“I am Gavin, of the High Family of lords. This is my guard and partner Michael.” Gavin replied shakily. _Well_ , Geoff thought to himself, _that explains why he needs a guard. Damn royal family is involved in whatever this is, must be pretty fucking huge._ “And the human is Geoff Ramsey of Earth. He’s our third member.”

“We four,” Ray responded immediately, “constitute a Porican embassy to Earth. This is Kerry, Miles, and Joel.” The other Porican’s bristled, apparently hating the fact the Puppeteers now knew their names. “Our problem is that we have to be here –delicate negotiations and all that jazz. But I can be replaced. If your new ship is really as cool as you say it is, I’ll join you. Otherwise I’ll just have to prove my courage another way.”

“We’re happy either way.” Michael replied with a small smirk. 

“So, can I ask,” Ray said, sliding into the Booth beside Geoff, “why is he answering for you? I mean, you Puppeteers are built on that stupid hierarchy, but you’re letting some guardsman talk business.”

“Because Michael-“

“Because this dickhead doesn’t know when to shut up.” Michael groused. “Last time I let him talk negotiations, he nearly got a tanta beast set on us.” Ray laughed.

“Kzinti are pretty uptight.” He said, “Let’s eat, then. I mean, unless we got some urgent stuff to do?”

“Nah, we still have a few members to get. We’ll be called when the other two are found.” Gavin responded, some of the nervousness gone now that it looked like Ray wouldn’t be eating him any time soon.

“Good, I’m starved.” And thus, Geoff Ramsey found himself in the company of two supposed extinct Puppeteers and a Porican from a race known for being utter assholes –though courageous assholes they were-, and no closer to answers.

Best birthday yet, he guessed.


	2. And His Crew

Geoff knew people who closed their eyes when they used a Transfer Booth. The jump in scenery gave everyone vertigo, whether you were used to using them or not and no matter how many times you used them.

To Geoff, this was nonsense –but then some of his friends were much odder than that.

He kept his eyes open as he dialed. Gavin and Michael fading away in an instant.

The moment the scenery faded back in, someone called, “Hey! He’s back!” And a mob formed around the door.

Geoff forced it open against them. “God dammit, don’t you guys go home?” He yelled into the crowd, “Clear the door, assholes, got more guests coming through!”

“Great!” A voice shouted in his ear. Anonymous hands took his hand and forced the fingers around a drinking bulb. Geoff hugged the seven or eight of his invited guests within arm’s reach and smiled at his welcome. He spent a few moments laughing at horrible jokes, gawking at over-extravagantly dressed guests, and generally trying to get as drunk as he could before his next _guests_ arrived.

Before he could, however, he was suddenly staring right into a pair of semi-reflective eyes barely an inch from his face. Geoff jumped back with a loud yelp, earning more than a few laughs from the party-goers around him.  


One Jack Pattillo had somehow snuck up on him. 

Jack was an odd, secretive being –even after years of knowing each other, Geoff still had no idea what he actually was- but he was friendly and frighteningly supportive and caring. It was endearing, but slightly unnerving at the same time. 

No one was naturally this full of sunshine. 

“I had to ask you,” Jack said as soon as he finished laughing at Geoff’s mini-heart attack, “how’d you get a Trinoc to come?”

“Shit. Don’t tell me he’s _still_ here!” Geoff replied. He would’ve been annoyed had it not been for the fact he’d been wishing Ambassador A’pWik would leave since his arrival. 

“Nah. His air was running out, so he went home.”

“That’s a load of bullshit, and you know it.” Geoff grumbled, “A Trinoc airmaker lasts for weeks. Doesn’t matter anyway –that guy’s an asshole. Did he at least leave the caviar alone?”

“You wish.” Jack laughed, “I think he took every tin he could find. Said it was payment for making him stay.”

Geoff threw up his hands in frustration. “What did I tell you! Guy’s an asshole.” 

Suddenly, the whole room went deathly quiet. Geoff knew what was happening before he even turned back to the Transfer Booth.

Geoff had thought of this as they were leaving Krushenko’s. He’d been trying to persuade both Gavin and Michael to tell him and Ray something of their proposed destination, but the puppeteers were afraid of spy-beams and kept their mouths shut.  


_“Then come to my place,” Geoff had suggested._

_“But your guests!” Gavin had cried –quite dramatically._

_“They won’t be in my office._ ”

_Michael frowned, “what about-“_

_“And it’s completely bug-proof. Besides, think of the hit you’ll make at the party! I mean, assuming everyone hasn’t left by now.”_

The impact was all Geoff could have hoped for. The tap-tap-tap of the puppeteer’s footsteps and shaky rustling of feathers were suddenly the only sounds in the room. 

Behind them, Ray flickered into existence, a mild look of nausea crossing his features momentarily as the vertigo left him. The Porican looked around the sea of human and alien faces surrounding the booth before slowly baring his teeth in a wide –and very unnecessary- grin.

Someone poured their drink into a potted plant. The grand gesture.

People edged away from the Booth with whispers of: _You’re okay, I see them too._ And _Sober pills? Let me look in my sporran._ And _Throws one hell of a party, doesn’t he? Good ol’ Geoff Ramsey!_

Apparently, no one knew what to make of Gavin and Michael –Geoff could even see a few people turn to face the other direction, trying to somehow ignore the presence of the two puppeteers. They seemed to be reacting better to Ray –once mankind’s most dangerous enemy, the Porican was being treated with awed deference, like some kind of hero.

“Follow me,” Geoff said to the three newcomers. With luck, Ray would ignore the instinct to terrorize the other guests and follow behind them. “Excuse us!” Geoff bellowed, pushing his way into the throng. In response to various excited and puzzled questions, he merely grinned.

-0--0-  
Safely in his office, Geoff barred the door and turned on the bug proofing set.

“Okay. Who needs refreshment?”

“Just give me something clear and non-alcoholic.” Ray grumbled. Geoff frowned, but put in the order code anyway. He’d offered, and it was bad manners not to follow through.

“Nothing for us.” Gavin said after a moment. Michael didn’t say anything, too busy looking around Geoff’s office –for what, Geoff couldn’t guess.

Everyone jumped, however, when Ray dropped heavily onto an inflated hassock, causing it to let out a high squeak. Under his weight, it should’ve exploded like a balloon. It was small, old, and only ever half-inflated at any given moment. 

“What?” Ray said in response to the awkward stares. Gavin laughed suddenly, jarring Michael beside him.

“You look bloody ridiculous.” He giggled. Geoff had to agree, really –man’s second oldest enemy, balanced on a too small hassock, looking very similar to a giant sitting on a house.

“Ha-ha, very funny. So why are we here?” Ray sneered. 

And they got down to business.

To the Puppeteers, the quantum II hyperdrive shunt was a white elephant. It would move a ship a light-year in one-and-a-quarter minutes, where conventional crafts would cross that distance in three days. But conventional craft had room for cargo.

“We built the motor into a General Products Number Four hull, the biggest made by our company,” Michael explained, “when our scientists and engineers had finished their work, most of the interior was filled with machinery of the hyperdrive shunt –so our trip out will be a teeny bit cramped.”

“An experimental vehicle,” Ray mumbled over the mouth of his glass. “very motivational.” 

“Doesn’t matter what we do or what we’re in, everything is a risk.” Gavin retorted.

“You’re already risking your lives travelling with a Porican.”

“I know that. We both do. But our motivation is pretty solid with this.”

“Motivation?” Geoff asked. He’d figured this was a mission full of self-sacrifice for the greater good for the two Puppeteers, not one of profit. It seemed there were more secrets behind this mission than he’d thought.

“Just spit it out, you two.” Ray groused with a sigh. “There’s already enough secrets here to last us a damn lifetime. You guys won’t even tell us where we’re going or what we’re doing.” 

“I plan on courting someone, but to be able to do that, I have to prove my worth and intelligence.” Michael replied with an air of nervousness. He stole a short glance at Gavin, and Geoff instantly understood.

“How tragically romantic,” Ray mumbled. “Now what about my motivation? What am I getting out of this?”

“A ship? Hero status within your people?” Gavin offered with a small shrug, “You won’t be sent home in disgrace for leaving your embassy party, at least.” Ray bared his teeth at the Puppeteer. Geoff watched Michael’s hand inch towards a small weapon on his belt –more than likely a shock or pulse weapon, as the Puppeteers were too cautious of anything that could backfire. 

“So why are we the ones testing out this craft?” Geoff asked to break the tense silence.

“We couldn’t do it and we couldn’t find another race to either. I mean, we’re in the middle of a migration, our time has been spent checking and rechecking supplies.” Gavin replied. 

“So has this ship been tested at all?”

“It’s made one trip to the Galactic Core and back, but that’s it.”

“Great. That makes me feel so safe.”

“Look, we don’t need the ship –you do. We’re giving it to the crew, along with copies of the plans for making more. If you want to improve the design when it’s yours, have at it –but right now, it’s all we’ve got.”

“Fine. When are we leaving for this…whatever it is mission?”

“A few days. Our agents are looking for a qualified fifth and sixth members for our exploration team.” 

“Guess we’ve got plenty of time to relax in the mean-time, then.”

“Then let’s go mingle.” Geoff said, standing up to stretch. “Let’s giv’em a thrill.”

-0--0-

The party had split into sections –bridge and poker tables, lovers in pairs and larger groups, tellers of tales, and victims of ennui. 

Out on the lawn, under a hazy early morning sun, was a mixed group of ennui victims and xenophiles –including Ray and the two Puppeteers. 

It also included Geoff Ramsey, Jack Pattillo, and an overworked robotic bartender.

The grass was green and glossy, obviously the real thing –nobody had ever tampered with its genes in search of dubious improvements. At the bottom of the rolling green slope was a tennis court, where diminutive figures ran and jumped, swinging their oversized fly-swatters with great energy.

“Exercise is bullshit,” Geoff mumbled. “It’s even fucking exhausting to watch.” Jack laughed as Geoff dramatically flopped over into his lap with a deep sigh.

The bartender floated next to Geoff, tilted preposterously, motors whirring and buzzing as it tried to keep itself from rolling over in the air. Jack laughed at Geoff’s laziness as the man pushed the bartender over more so he could reach the keyboard without having to move.

He tapped an order for two mocha's, caught the bulbs as they dropped, and handed one to Jack.

“You remind me of someone.” Geoff remarked absently. “Ever heard of a woman named Griffon? Used to do all sorts of crazy shit with a chainsaw.”

“Who hasn’t heard of her?” Jack replied. “How do I remind you of her?”

Geoff hummed, “Dunno. Something about the laugh.”

“Not sure if that’s a compliment, really.”

“She gave me a severe case of whiplash a shit-ton years ago.”

Jack’s laugh sent vibrations bouncing pleasantly along Geoff’s vertebrae. “Promise I won’t give you whiplash.”

Geoff could almost feel the smiles radiating off the other man. It was kind of cute, if you were one of those people who found sunshine kids like Jack to be cute.  
Of course, Geoff was one of those people.

-0--0-

It was a calm, peaceful morning. 

Geoff was sure that if he went to sleep now, he’d sleep for twelve hours or more. Fatigue was giving him an exhaustion high, and Jack’s lap was a comfortable resting place for his head.

He’d realized, long ago, that he’d fallen a _little_ in love with the bearded man. He suspected Jack knew it, but kept his mouth shut –not that Geoff could blame him, really.

A good quarter of Geoff’s guests were women, and many of them had been his wife or girlfriend in other years. During the first phase of the party, he’d celebrated with innumerable drinks and shared stories of romance and whatnot of what he could remember with three of them –the three who had been very important to him once, and vice versa.

Two hundred thirty-nine years had left too much scar tissue on his personality, and now he was resting his head idly and comfortably in the lap of Jack Pattillo, who was either alien or human or some kind of mix-up of the two. 

Honestly, he could die happy right then and there.

“That would make for a shitty party, don’t you think?” Jack laughed. Geoff hadn’t realized he’d said anything out loud –and hoped he hadn’t said anything embarrassing without noticing.

“How long have we been out here?”

“Two hours? I think about two.” Jack said with a frown. No doubt he’d been dozing as well.

“I wonder if Gavin and Michael’s agent’s gotten back to them yet.”

The two puppeteers were entertaining a large group of people with stories of their homeworld. They interrupted each other every time something was up for questioning –though Geoff doubted the argument about not knowing whether or not your legs knew they were legs was a valuable discussion.

Ray, on the other side of the yard in the shade of a large oak, was less crowded. He was laughing with a young, dark haired girl Geoff couldn’t remember the name of. Porican were fearsome in battle, unmatched in wit and courage, but would could fear a Porican who was blushing so profusely at something so simple as a girl kissing his cheek?

Geoff couldn’t help but laugh at the scene.

“Having fun, Ray?” Upon closer inspection, the girl’s hair was space-black and embroidered with stars and galaxies. It was oddly both stunning and unnerving.

“Of course I am,” He smirked, looking back towards his companion, “I was just getting to know the lovely Tina Dayton here.”

“And as flattering as he is,” Tina laughed as she stood up and dusted off her jeans, “I’m hungry.”

“Aww, but-“

“No buts,” She laughed, “I haven’t eaten anything all day.” And, with a final –and very cute- cheek kiss, she was gone.

“Jack can take over from here.” Geoff laughed, sending a wink towards the bearded man. “Jack Pattillo, meet Ray. He’s our friendly neighborhood Porican.”

There was a sudden, loud squawking from nearby, startling Jack from his own introduction. Michael screamed something in their native tongue, but Gavin was already flapping his way over to them.

“You’re Jack Shannon Pattillo, Social number 7282008?”

Jack was startled, but not frightened. “That’s my name, but I don’t remember my Social number. Why?”

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere for nearly a bloody week!” Gavin shouted exasperatedly.

“It’s not like I’ve been hiding. Not from you or anyone else.”

“Hold on,” Geoff said, stepping between Gavin and Jack, “Jack obviously isn’t an explorer. Pick someone else.”

“But, Geoff-“

“Let the bird-brains choose their own team members.”

“But look at him!”

“Look at yourself, Geoff. Barely two meters high, pasty, half-drunk –are you an explorer? Do Gavin and I look like explorers?”

“Just what is going on?” Jack demanded.

Michael sighed, “Let’s talk about this in your office, Geoff.”

-0--0-

“Jack Pattillo,” Gavin started as soon as the door clicked shut behind them, “we have a proposal for you.”

“You don’t have to accept or listen, but we think you’ll find our proposal interesting.” Michael finished.

“Okay?” 

“Guys, come on. Jack’s not-“

“He fits our qualifications,” Gavin insisted. “We’re going to at least consider him.”

“He can’t be the only one on Earth.”

“No, he’s not, but out of Earth, he’s one of the only few who are actually qualified for what we need.”

“Okay, okay. Stop. How about you guys actually tell me something instead of talking around me?” 

Gavin and Michael took turns telling the same story they’d told Geoff, learning along the way that Jack had no interest in space, had never been as far as Pluto, had no intention of going beyond the borders of Known Space, and the second quantum hyperdrive did not arouse his curiosity.

Once he started to look confused and frustrated, Geoff broke into their conversation.

“Gavin, just what are the qualifications Jack fits?”

“Our agents have been seeking the descendants of winners of the Birthright Lotteries.”

“I quit,” Geoff yelled to the ceiling, “you two are genuinely fucking insane.”

“Fuck you –our orders come straight from the High-wing himself. You have no right to question his sanity.”

“No, but I can question yours!” Instantly, Geoff was glad Ray had elected to stay outside with the party, this kind of tense atmosphere would definitely set off his Porican fight instincts.

“Can we explain at least?” Gavin asked, tone annoyed but soft –as if he were trying to calm a savage beast.

Geoff stared at him for a moment, debating. On one hand, he’d have to listen to whatever insane reasoning these two had. On the other, an explanation would probably help him understand what their _qualifications_ were.

“Fine.” He grumbled. He plopped down into one of the many scattered armchairs and crossed his arms petulantly. The Puppeteers ignored him and settled in around each other, Jack following suit.

For human beings, birth control had long been an easy matter. In earlier centuries, clumsier methods had been used –nowadays a tiny crystal was inserted under the skin of the patient’s forearm. The crystal took a year to dissolve, and, during that year, the patient would be unable to conceive a child.

Earth’s population had been stabilized, about the middle of the twenty-first century, at eighteen billion. The Fertility Board, a subsection of the United Nations, mad and enforced the birth control laws, and, for more than half a thousand years, those laws had remained the same: Two children to a couple, subject to the judgement of the Fertility Board. The Board might award extra children to one couple, or deny any children at all to another, all on the basis of desirable or undesirable genes.

For half a thousand years, the laws held good. Then, two hundred years ago, rumors of chicanery in the Fertility Board started.

The scandal had ultimately resulted in drastic changes in the birth control laws: 

Every human being now had the right to be a parent once, regardless of the state of their genes. In addition, the Birthrights Second and Third could come automatically –for a high tested IQ, or for proven, useful psychic powers, such as Plateau eyes or absolute direction, or for survival genes, like telepathy or natural longevity or perfect teeth. 

One could buy the Birthrights at a million dollars a shot now. And why not? The knack for making money was attested, proven survival factor. Besides, it cut down on the bribery attempts.

One could fight for the Birthrights in the arena. If one had not yet used up his or her Birthright First, that is. Winner could earn their Birthrights Second and Third, loser lost their Birthright First and his life.

It evened out, as barbaric as it was.

“Oh, I saw one of those fights on TV. I thought they were fighting for fun?” Gavin said.

“Nope, they’re serious, I told you.” Michael replied. He held out his hand and smirked, “Pay up, asshole.”

Geoff watched Gavin pull out a wad of grey bills and throw them at his partner with a pout that could rival any child. Betting on petty, trivial things were apparently not beneath a Puppeteer.

“But even with boosters to prevent aging in humans, more die on Earth than are born in any given year, so the lotteries come short no matter what.” Jack put in. 

And so, each year, the Fertility Board totaled up the year’s deaths and emigrations, subtracted the year’s births and immigrations, and put the resulting number of Birthrights into the New Year’s Day lottery.

Anyone could enter and, with luck, you could have ten or twenty children –if you considered that lucky. Even convicted criminals couldn’t be excluded from the Birthright Lotteries.

“I’ve had four kids myself,” Geoff said, “one by lottery. You would’ve met three of them if you’d been here twelve hours ago.

“That all sounds like a huge mess,” Michael mumbled as he shouldered Gavin back into attention, “When the Puppeteer population gets too big-“

“You guys send them out on secret missions to other planets?” Geoff supplied. 

Michael stared at him for a moment, unsure if it was a stab at him and Gavin or a joke. “Uh, no, actually.” He grumbled, “The High-wing prepares a test and anyone who fails the test is killed. It sounds barbaric, but it helps our population adjust itself without the need for breeding laws.”

“I think I understand,” Jack said suddenly, jumping the three out of their conversation, “My parents were both lottery winners.” He laughed somewhat nervously, “otherwise I wouldn’t even have been born. Come to think of it, my grandfather-“  
“The past six generations were born from Birthright Lottery wins.” Gavin said with a smile.

“Really? I didn’t know that.” 

“Your records were clear about that specifically.” Michael assured him.

“So what? What does that have to do with anything?” Geoff groused.

“The High-wing thinks that the people of Earth are breeding for luck.” 

“What?” Jack leaned forward in his chair, intensely curious. _Doubtless he’d ever seen two mad Puppeteers_ , Geoff thought to himself.

“Think of the lotteries. Think of evolution. For seven hundred years, your people bred by the numbers.” 

“Two Birthrights per person, two children per couple. Here and there, one might win a third Birthright, or be refused his first on adequate grounds.” Gavin followed, not missing a beat.  


“Diabetic genes, allergies, weak immune system or whatever.”

“But most of humanity had two children.” The back and forth explanation from the Puppeteers made Geoff want to pull his hair out, but he kept it together, wanting to know what exactly they were getting at.

“Then the law was changed. For the past two centuries, between ten and thirteen percent of each human generation has been born by right of a winning lottery ticket.” 

“What determines who will survive and breed? On Earth, luck.”

“And Jack Pattillo is the son of a six-generation winning streak.”


	3. Jack Pattillo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiatus is now over! Have some shippy Jack/Geoff with a hint of Michael/Gavin to make up for it. 
> 
> Also, I'm pretty sure I spelt Pattillo right? Kinda leaving that up to thegoodgirl (my co-writer/beta teammate) to yell at me about.

Jack was giggling helplessly.

“I call bullshit,” Geoff said over Jack’s laugh, “you can’t breed for luck. Humans aren’t cattle or dogs.”

“But your society breeds for telepathy.” Gavin reminded the tattooed man. Beside him, Michael scoffed.

“That’s not the same, Gav. Telepathy isn’t a psychic power.” Michael tried to explain, though he could see his partner still didn’t understand.

“Telepathy isn’t a psychic power. The mechanisms in the right parietal lobe are well mapped –they just don’t work for most people.”

“Luck is luck.” Jack said, “It’s not the same as telepathy. Telepathy is a form of psi.” The situation would have been funny –as funny as Jack thought it was- but Geoff realized what the bearded man didn’t. 

The two Puppeteers were serious. 

“The law of averages swings back and forth. The odds shift wrong and you’re out of the game, like the damn dinosaurs. The dice fall your way and-“

“Some humans can direct the fall of those dice. We’ve see it happen more times than we care to count.” Gavin cut in. 

“Okay, so, not the best metaphor. The point is-“

“The point is,” Ray grumbled as he walked through the office door, “that we will accept whoever the hell the feather-brains picked.” Geoff wasn’t entirely sure how much the Porican had heard before he entered, or how he unlocked the door, but there was nothing to do but ignore it. 

Porican’s were strange creatures and he wouldn’t put it past Ray’s excellent hearing to pick up their conversation from the yard.

Geoff sighed, letting the conversation drop, “Fine. You two own the ship, so who and where is our next crew member?”

“Here in this room.” Gavin chirruped, earning a sharp elbow jab from Michael at his volume. Four sets of eyes turned towards Jack –some more curious than others.

“Now wait just a damn minute,” Jack shouted as soon as he realized what they meant, “I’m not going anywhere! Why would I? This whole thing is ridiculous.”

“Pick someone else, guys. There must be millions of other candidates to choose from.”

“Not _millions_ , Geoff. We have a few thousand names and phone numbers for most of them –along with several private Transfer Booth numbers.” Gavin mumbled indignantly, as if Geoff’s accounting for _millions_ instead of _thousands_ absolutely offended him.

“Each of them can claim five generations of ancestors born by virtue of winning lottery tickets.” Michael continued.

“Then why Jack? You can pick from any of those assholes.”

“Because they’re brimming with shitty luck. Of the rest, no one seems to be available. When we call, they’re always out.” Michael grumbled.

“And when we call back, the phone computer gives us a bad connection.” Gavin continued.

“When we ask for any member of the Brandt family, every fucking phone in South America rings.”

“It’s very bloody frustrating.”

Geoff looked between the two, wondering if they could read each other’s thoughts or if it was just some weird, creepy Puppeteer thing to complete statements between them.

“You haven’t even told me where you’re going.” Jack sighed.

“We can’t really tell you. But you can look at the holo Geoff has. That’s the only information we can give you right now, though.” Geoff handed over the holo they’d given him earlier, the action almost automatic.

Jack took his time looking it over –and only Geoff seemed to notice how an angry flush crept into his face.

When Jack spoke, he spit the words out as if they were each filled with a sour poison, “This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard of. You expect us to go charging out beyond Known Space with a Porican and two Puppeteers for company, and all we know about where we’re going is a length of blue ribbon and a light-spot!”

“So, that’s a no?” Gavin asked slowly. 

Jack’s eyebrows shot up, “Of course that’s a no! This’s…this’s ridiculous!” Gavin and Michael shared a look.

“Then by human law, you can’t talk about anything you’ve been told here.”

“Who would I tell?” Jack laughed dramatically, “Who would believe me? Geoff, are you really going on this ridiculous-“

“Yes.” Geoff was already thinking of other things, like a tactful way to get Jack out of the office. “But not right this minute –my damn party’s still going.” He sighed, long and suffering, “Look, just do something for me will you? Switch the musicmaster from tape four to tape five and tell anyone who asks that I’ll be out in a minute.”

Jack gave him a look –something Geoff could easy misplace as anger or frustration if he didn’t know Jack better- but complied. 

When the door had closed behind him, Geoff said, “Do me a favor. Do yourselves one, too. Let me be the judge of whether or not someone is qualified for a fucking jaunt into the unknown.”

“You know what we’re looking for,” Gavin said tiredly, “but we don’t even have two candidates to choose from.”

“You’ve got tens of thousands.”

“No, we don’t.” Michael answered, sounding just as worn out as his companion, “But can you tell us why the fuck that human doesn’t fit your _qualifications_?” 

“Because.” Honestly, Geoff couldn’t think of any other reason than he didn’t want Jack to get hurt by something out there in the unknown. But he would rather be six-feet under before he told that to three clueless aliens.

“A single word is not an answer, and you know we won’t accept it as one. So, what is it?” Gavin asked, sounding intensely curious.

“Do you two not get along?” Michael asked.

“Do you hate each other?” 

“Does Pattillo intimidate you?” Geoff was getting really tired of the back and forth between the two.

“Are you in love with him?” Ray laughed from his seat. 

Geoff threw the Porican a glare, but ignored him. “Look, I just don’t want him tagging along on some fucking quest that no one knows anyone about.”

“No one can qualify without being of Jack Pattillo’s generation.”

“He doesn’t have that spark. He isn’t-“

“He’s not restless,” Gavin said, “he’s happy where he is –which is a bit of a draw-back- and there’s nothing he wants. But how could we know this without asking?”

“You know what? Fine. Pick your own damn candidates.” Geoff groaned, tired of the fruitless arguing. It was time for a proper drink, Geoff thought to himself and started out the door. 

Behind him, Gavin let out a chirping trill before calling out, “Geoff! Ray! The signal! One of our agents found another candidate!”

“Good.” Geoff grumbled. Across the living room, Jack was glaring at yet another Puppeteer.

\---

Geoff woke up slowly. He remembered donning a sleep headset and setting it for an hour of sleep. Presumably, that had been an hour ago.

After the set turned itself off, the discomfort of having the thing on his head would’ve woken him up, but the only problem with that –it wasn’t on his head.

Geoff sat up abruptly, but Jack’s voice stopped him from panicking, “I took it off you,” Jack said, cheeky smile on his face, “You needed the sleep.”

“Shit…what time is it?”

“A little after seven.”

“Whelp, that makes me a shitty host, doesn’t it?”

“Nah, not really. You’re down to about twenty guests. I told them what I was doing and they all thought it was a good idea.”

“Okay, sure.” Geoff groaned, rolling off the bed. “Should we join what’s left of the party?”

“Not yet. I want to talk to you first, if that’s alright.”

“Okay?” He sat down again, the fuzziness of sleep slowly leaving him. “What about?”

“You’re really going on this crazy trip?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t see why.”

“Because I’m ten times your age.” Geoff said, “I don’t have to work for a living. I don’t have the patience to be a scientist. I did some photography once, for the war, but it turned out to be a shit-ton of hard work –which was the last thing I expected. What’s left after all that?”

Jack shook his head, “That doesn’t sound like a lot of work.”

Geoff shrugged. “Boredom is my worst enemy, Jack. It’s killed a lot of my friends, but it won’t get me. When I get bored, I risk my damn life somewhere –it’s the only thing to stop me from going insane.”

“Shouldn’t you at least know what the risk is?”

“I’m getting paid and I get to leave the thermosphere for a bit –what more do I need?”

“You don’t need the money.”

“The human race needs what the Puppeteers have.” Geoff said, “Look, Jack. You were told all about the second quantum hyper-drive ship. It’s the only ship in Known Space that moves faster than three days to the light year. And it goes almost four hundred times that fast!”

“Who _needs_ to fly that fast?” 

Geoff wasn’t in the mood to deliver a lecture on the Core explosion. “Let’s get back to the party.”

“Wait, Geoff.” Jack called.

Geoff looked at him curiously, eyebrow raised.

“I’m really messing this up. Look, Geoff, are you in love with anyone right now?”

Geoff gulped, trying to look anywhere but the man in front of him. “Uh, well. I mean-“ Jack laughed.

“Never mind, I can tell you are just by how nervous you are.” In the semi-darkness of the bedroom, Jack looked like the burning giraffe in the Dali painting. His hair glowed by its own light, a stream of orange and red flame, entrapping Geoff in the strange glow Jack put off.

He’d never understood what Jack was entirely –and Jack had explained, years ago, that he didn’t quite know either. He’d been adopted by human parents, but no one had ever seen a babe with glowing hair and eyes and skin. He was a rare breed, and, though Geoff hated comparing him to some rare insect, he shone like the newly extinct fireflies.

From the door came bursts of computer music, wild and sporadic, strangely incomplete without the light patters to make it whole. 

Jack shifted restlessly, stirring the firelight of his skin into shadows on the wall.

“What are you thinking about, Jack?”

“That those Puppeteers have thousands of candidates to choose from. They could find your fifth and sixth crewmen any day, any minute, and then off you go.” Jack sighed, absently scratching at the side of his head. Geoff could see there was something else the man wanted to say, but kept his mouth shut. It was awkward enough without his feelings getting in the mix.

“That’s alright, though. You don’t want to go.” Jack frowned at him, opened his mouth to say something, and then shook his head. 

“You’re right.”

“You’ll stay here until I go then?” Jack nodded and Geoff couldn’t help but watch the shadow play on the wall behind him.

\---

Gavin dropped in two days later.

Geoff and Jack were out on the lawn, soaking up sunshine and playing a deadly serious game of I Spy. Jack was winning, of course, thanks to Geoff’s inability to pay attention to anything for more than a moment without looking at his companion.

Jack was searching for Geoff’s _I Spy something purple_ , when the servo slid up and beeped at them. Geoff glanced up at the monitor screen and saw two bright green eyes looking out of the servo’s chest. “Send him out here, I’m too lazy to get up.” He mumbled as he flopped back onto the grass.

Jack stood in one sudden, graceless motion. “You two should talk alone, since I’m not going.”

“You’re no fun. What’re you gonna do?”

“Dunno. Maybe finish up a book.” Jack said. He leveled a finger at Geoff, “Don’t forget about who’s winning. I want to finish my turn before you give up again.”

He met the Puppeteer coming out of the door and waved casually as they passed. Gavin jumped six feet to the side with a squawk. “Bloody hell, don’t do that! You startled me.”

Jack merely lifted an eyebrow and went inside.

Gavin stopped next to Geoff and folded his wings tightly behind him –nervous, Geoff thought to himself.

“Could Pattillo spy on us?”

“You know you could just call him Jack, right? Also, where’s your boyfriend?” Gavin looked at him curiously, brows furrowed in uncertainty.

“Boyfriend? I’m not sure what that is.” He asked unsurely.

“Never mind. And you know there’s no defense against a spy beam, not in the fucking open anyway.” Geoff grumbled. “Anyway, where’s Michael? I thought you two were stuck to each other or something?”

“Uh, actually, he had some work to do. Our messengers are out of orbit, so he has to send reports in himself and it’s taking a lot of work.”

“Why aren’t you doing it then? Prince’s not learn how to do that kind’a shit?”

“We learn how to do everything anyone else does. It’s just I’m…maybe here without proper permission.”

“Ooh, a rebel. I like it. Very un-Puppeteer of you.” Gavin let out a noise Geoff wasn’t sure was good or bad or some neutral agreement of Geoff’s statement. 

“Anyway, Michael does a lot of the work so I don’t get in too much trouble with my mum and dad.” Geoff hummed absently, moving his eyes from Gavin’s twitching form to the sky. He wouldn’t say it, but the green-eyed Puppeteer never looked more nervous than when his partner wasn’t with him.

It was very romantic, if you were into that cutesy, obliviously-in-love kind of thing. 

“How many meteorites fall to Earth in a year?”

“How would I know?”

“Dunno, just thought you would.”

“Too bad I don’t.” Geoff mumbled. The Puppeteer’s behavior confused him. He just chalked it up to the duo being a solo. “You two found your next crew member?”

“Yes. Took us bloody long enough, but Dan was able to track down a James Ryan Haywood. He says Haywood’s a good choice for our crew.”

“And?”

“His health is perfect, he’s thirty-four years old. Six generations of his ancestors were all born through winning lottery tickets. And he likes travelling. He’s not really restless, like you, but he’s prepared to travel as far as we need to go.”

“Sounds like a good guy. He handsome?”

“I would not know. You humans are all attractive in your own way.” Gavin said with a laugh. 

“I wouldn’t say that to Michael.” Geoff mumbled lightly. 

“Naturally, we tried to contact him in person. We tracked him through a series of Transfer Booths, always a jump behind him.” Gavin went on, “Haywood went skiing in Suisse, and surfing in Ceylon. We even tracked him through shops in New York and house parties in the Rockies and the Himalayas.”

“How’d you guys get him, then? Sounds like he’s been everywhere.”

“Dan contacted Haywood’s wife and asked for an audience.” Geoff laughed. Of course they’d use the easiest way last.

“So when’s he going to be here?”

“Apparently, he’s going to stay with his family until we leave. We’ll meet him on the ship.”

“So what’s bugging you? You’re nervous as shit –basically vibrating on the spot.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on. Something’s got your panties in a twist and I want to know what it is.” Geoff said as he pushed himself off the ground to look at Gavin.

The Puppeteer had tucked his head between his knees, wings extended like a shield around his body.

“Come on, Gav, come out.” Geoff called, running his hands gently along the back of Gavin’s wings as calming as he could. “Nothing’s going to hurt you here. I protect my guests. What’s the matter?”

“I’m bloody barmy is what! I insulted four Porican in the matter of a single sitting, and I’m here without permission! Not to mention I’m bloody arse over elbow for my own damn escort!”

“I’m sure there’s English in there somewhere, I’m just not sure where to find it.” Geoff said with a grimace. Who knew Puppeteers could butcher the English language so well.

They sat like that for a bit longer, Geoff doing his best to quell the alien’s shaking as Gavin supplied small chirrups and trills that _could’ve_ been something in his natural language, but Geoff wasn’t so sure.

After a while, Gavin unfolded himself and sat up, “Sorry, Geoff. I’m just not used to this, y’know?” He grumbled, standing up shakily. “Why did I meet Pattillo? I thought he would’ve left by now.”

“I asked him to stay until we found your other crew members.”

“Why?” Gavin asked. Geoff wanted to ask why Gavin was always so curious about things Geoff said, but he let it go. His thoughts were too occupied with why, in fact, he did ask Jack to stay.

The tattooed man had realized long ago that there was no way he stood a chance with the literal firefly of a man known as Jack Pattillo. It didn’t stop the way his heart leapt in his throat when he saw Jack, or the way he was always secretly so damn nervous around him –but it was a pain in the ass when he was trying to have a simple, serious conversation with him.

Maybe it was Jack’s light? They say moths are attracted to light, no matter how deadly it was. And, Geoff had also realized, Jack was the brightest light he’d ever seen.

“I don’t know.” Geoff flopped back onto the grass with an exhausted sigh. “Probably a lot of reasons.”

“There seems to be a lot of stuff you don’t know.” Gavin said, smiling. 

Geoff had almost forgotten he was talking to an alien who didn’t understand –or couldn’t see- how human emotions worked. How would he even explain how he felt for Jack? Did Puppeteers love? 

All this thinking was hurting Geoff’s head.

He realized the Puppeteer was still shivering and sat up with a, hopefully, warm smile. “Let’s go to my office. It’s under the hill, no meteors.” He couldn’t figure out his own thoughts, but he could help Gavin with his own. Or, at least, help him take his mind off them.

\---

Michael came rushing into Geoff’s office nearly three hours later, breathing harshly and eyes darting around in fear. As soon as he saw Gavin –who was so close to being drunk, he was wobbling and slurring- his shoulders sagged and he let out a deep breath.

Geoff thought it was cute, really, and didn’t understand how these two weren’t an item already.

“Hullo my little Michael!” Gavin crooned, rocking back on the already unstable bar stool. Michael raced over to him, steadying the tipsy Puppeteer before he fell over.

“I’m gone for five minutes and you’re already fucking wasted.” Gavin only smiled dreamily and put his head down on the bar with a heavy _thunk_. 

“To be fair, Michael,” Geoff laughed, “it's been longer than five minutes. And he’s only had two shots of Tequila -he’s tipsy at most.” Michael sent him a glare, eyes glowing faintly amber, but only pulled his companion off his seat. 

Geoff expected Michael to throw a tantrum, by the look on his face, and walk Gavin out of the room. He was proven very wrong when Michael expertly hefted Gavin into his arms and carried him out of the office, cursing in seemingly every human and alien language he knew.

With Gavin safely under Michael’s watch again, Geoff went looking for Jack.

He found him in the library, surrounded by old, dusty books that no one had touched in years, flicking through the reading screen at a speed Geoff was sure was unattainable even by a speed reader.

“Hi,” Jack said. He froze the frame and turned, “How’s our jumpy friend doing?”

“Still jumpy, but a little better after a few drinks and the return of his not-boyfriend boyfriend.” Jack gave him a look.

“You got Gavin drunk?”

“Tipsy, my friend. Merely tipsy.” Geoff corrected. “He wore me out. Who knew I would be playing psychiatrist to a Puppeteer.”

“You know anything about their sex life?” Jack asked with a muffled laugh. 

“What a fucking question that is. No, I don’t. Other than they aren’t allowed to breed unless they show their courage or some shit. Other than that, we kind of stayed off that subject completely. Since, y’know, I don’t want to hear about their sexual fantasies or something.”

“I doubt the Puppeteers have sexual fantasies, Geoff. They’re too… _high-brow_ for that.”

“You haven’t heard these two speak, then.”

“Well, what _did_ you two talk about?”

“Three hundred years of fucking trauma. That’s how long those two’ve been in human space. I doubt they even remember the Puppeteer planet.” Geoff said, dropping into a masseur chair. The strain of empathizing with an alien had exhausted his mind, used up what little imagination he’d had.

“What about you? What’re you ogling at up there?” 

“The Core Explosion.” Jack said with a sigh, waving up towards the screen.

There were stars in clusters and bunches and masses –you couldn’t see black, there were so many stars. It might’ve been a dense star cluster, but it wasn’t –it couldn’t be. Telescopes couldn’t reach that far, nor would any normal spacecraft. 

It was the Galactic Core, five thousand light years across, a tight sphere of stars at the axis of the galactic whirlpool. 

One man had reached that far, two hundred years ago, in an experimental Puppeteer-built ship. The frame showed red and blue and green stars, all super-imposed, the red stars biggest and brightest. In the center of the picture was a patch of blazing white in the shape of a bloated comma –within it were lines and blobs of shadow, but the shadow within the white patch was brighter than any star outside it.

“That’s why you need the Puppeteer ship,” Jack said, “isn’t it?”

“Sure.” Geoff replied lazily.

“How did it happen?”

“The stars are too close together,” Geoff said, “an average of half a light year apart, all through the core of any galaxy. Near the center, they’re packed even tighter. In a Galactic Core, stars are so close to each other that they can heat each other up. Being hotter, they burn faster –age faster.”

“So all the stars of the core must have been just that much closer to going nova.”

“Yeah, about ten thousand years ago. Then the star went nova. It let loose a lot of fucking heat and a blast of gamma rays. The few stars around it got that much hotter. I think the gamma rays also make for increased stellar activity.”

“So a couple of neighboring stars blew up?”

“Yep,” Geoff nodded, “that made three. The combined heat set off a few more –a big chain reaction. Pretty soon there was no stopping it.”

“And that white patch?”

“All supernovae. If you like, you can get the math of it a little further along in the tape.”

“No thanks,” Jack said –predictably-, “I’m guessing it’s all over by now?”

“Yeah. That’s old light you’re looking at, though -it hasn’t reached this part of the galaxy yet. The chain reaction must’ve ended then thousand years ago.”

“Then why is everyone excited about it?”

“Radiation. All kinds of fast particles and shit.” Geoff said. The masseur chair was beginning to relax him as he settled deeper into its formless bulk and let the standing wave patters knead his muscles. “Look at it this way, Jack. Known Space is a little bubble of stars thirty-three thousand light years out from the Galactic Axis. The novae began exploding more than ten thousand fucking years ago. That means the wave from that combined explosion will get _here_ in about...nineteen? Twenty thousand years?”

“Okay.”

“And the sub-nuclear radiation from a million fucking novae is travelling right behind the wave front.”

“Ah...”

“In nineteen or twenty thousand years we’ll have to evacuate every world you ever heard of, and probably a lot more.”

“That’s a long time. If we started now, we could do it with the ships we have.”

“You’re not thinking. At three days to the light year, it would take one of our ships about six to seven hundred years to reach the Clouds of Magellan.”

“They could stop off to get more food and air.”

“What? Every year?” Geoff snorted. “Try talking anyone into that. You know what I think? When the light of the Core explosion stars shining through the dust clouds between here and the Galactic Axis, that’s when everyone in human space is suddenly going to be terrified.”

“By then, they’ll only have a century to get out.” Jack mumbled. “So the Puppeteers had the right idea. They sent out a man to the Core as a publicity stunt, because they wanted financing for research.”

“He sent back pictures like that one,” Geoff said, pointing to the picture on the screen, “Before he landed, the Puppeteers were gone. There wasn’t a puppeteer on any human world. We won’t do it that way –we’ll wait and we’ll wait and when we finally decide to move, we’ll have to ship trillions of sentient beings completely out of the galaxy.”

“We need the Puppeteer drive _now_ so we can start improving it _now_.” Jack guessed. Geoff nodded, eyes closing as he let the masseur chair do its job. “Okay.”

Geoff’s eyes flew open, eyebrows already furrowed, “Okay?”

Jack nodded, “I’m going with you.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind.” Geoff grumbled dejectedly.

“Well, _you’re_ going, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m going. But I have a dick-load more reasons you don’t, and I’m better at staying alive than you are. I’ve been at it a helluva lot longer than you have.” Geoff bit back quickly. The last thing he wanted was Jack to come, if not for the bearded man’s safety, then for his own sanity.

“But I’m luckier.” Jack huffed. 

Geoff snorted again.

“My reasons for going may not be as _grand_ or _important_ as yours, but they’re good enough.”

Geoff stopped himself from rolling his eyes. To hell if Jack’s reasons were good enough –he was a free adult. Not only could he not be coerced, an attempt to order him about would be bad manners and –more to the point- wouldn’t work.

“Then think about it like this,” Geoff said, “Gavin and Michael have gone to great lengths to protect the secrecy of this trip. Why? What do they have to hide?”

“That’s their business, isn’t it? Maybe there’s something worth stealing, wherever we’re going.”

“So what? Where we’re going is two hundred light years from here. We’re the only one who can get there.”

“The ship itself, then.”

Whatever was unusual about Jack Pattillo, he was no dummy. Geoff himself hadn’t thought of that. 

“Then think about our crew,” He mumbled, “so far, we have two Puppeteers who can’t stop making heart-eyes at each other, two humans –possibly a third-, and a Porican with anger issues. None of us are professional explorers. I’m pretty sure Michael and Gavin aren’t professional anythings.”

“I know what you’re doing, but, honestly Geoff, I’m going. I doubt anything you say will stop me.”

“Then you can at least know what you’re getting into. Why the odd crew?”

“That’s their problem, not ours.”

“I’d say it’s ours. Gavin and Michael get their orders directly from the High-Wing –from the Puppeteer leader himself. I think Michael figured out what those orders meant, just a few hours ago.”

“So you think they’ve got something going on at once.”

“Not counting whatever it is we’ll be exploring.” Geoff noticed Jack’s interest pulling forward full force and continued. “First there’s Gavin. Prince –literal _prince_ \- of the Puppeteers. He’s two steps below High-Wing and he’s scared shitless because he’s here without permission and no one knows he’s here. Then there’s Michael, who can barely control his temper to the point he’s almost constantly in a state of ruffled-feathers. They’re both mad enough to land on an unknown world so how can they possibly be sane enough to survive the experience?”

“I’m sure their leader knows-“

“No, he doesn’t. Why do you think Gavin is freaking out so damn much? He’s literally here without anyone knowing he’s here or leading a _possibly_ dangerous mission.” Geoff groused, “And I’m pretty sure Michael’s just here because he wants the rights to bone Gavin. He doesn’t give a shit about anyone else as long as Gavin’s dream comes true.”

“What about Ray? He seems pretty harmless. And if he agreed to join the crew, he must see _something_ in it, right?”

“He’s an ambassador to an alien race, he should be one of the most sophisticated Porican around. But he’s already proven he’s got a shorter damn fuse than our bundle of fury –aka Michael- so how do we know he won’t just kill us for elbow room and bragging rights?”

“I doubt he’d be able to brag too much about killing two humans, really.” Jack smiled warmly at the look of contempt Geoff sent his way.

“Two fucking Puppeteers, Jack. No one’s ever been able to take one down, not even the fucking Porican’s military.”

“What about me?” Jack asked, preciously curious about Geoff’s thoughts.

“You and your presumed luck,” Geoff scoffed, flopping back into the masseur chair, “A blue-sky research project if I ever heard of it.”

“Well, what about you? I mean you’re _presumably_ the ultimate explorer type, yeah? I mean, you’re perfect for what they want. Or, you would be, if we knew what they wanted us for, y’know.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m the control.” Geoff stood up with a sigh and a stretch, groaning at the loss of the wonderful massaging power of the chair. “You know what I think?” He asked after a moment of slow pacing, “The puppeteers couldn’t care less about whatever planet we’re being sent to. Why should they when they’re leaving the galaxy?”

He was staring intently at Jack now, trying his damnedest to bring home the words with an oratorical technique he’d mastered while losing an election for the UN when he was in his forties. He would honestly have denied trying to browbeat Jack Pattillo, but he wanted desperately to convince him.

“They’re testing out little team to destruction. Before we get ourselves killed, the Puppeteers can find out a lot about how we interact.”

“I don’t think it’s a planet.” Jack mumbled, seemingly having ignored Geoff’s tries for coercing.

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” 

“Well, Geoff –if we’re going to get killed exploring it, we might as well know what it is. I think it’s a spacecraft.”

“You do.” It was more a statement than a question –though Jack could already feel the amazed frustration wafting off the other man.

“A big one, a ring-shaped one with a Ramscorp field to pick up interstellar hydrogen. I think it’s built to funnel the hydrogen into the axis for fusion.”

“Ramscorp? But that’s-“

“Your dad’s company, I know. But you’d get thrust with that, and a sun too. You’d spin the ring for centrifugal force, and you’d roof the inner side with glass.”

“That shit’s been obsolete since before it was built.” Geoff said, thinking back to the odd picture in the holo he’d been given by Gavin. “It’s big and primitive and not very easy to steer. It was a huge fucking hassle to build, too, and no one in their right mind wanted to man it or board it.”

“But why would the High-Wing be interested in such old spacecrafts?”

“Maybe it got re-purposed as a refugee ship? Core races would learn about stellar processes early, with the suns so close together. But why would any race want such an old and hazardous craft? I mean, dad didn’t really give a shit half the time –kinda surprised that thing hasn’t already fallen apart.”

“They might have predicted the explosion thousands of years ahead when there were only two or three supernovas?”

“Supernovae. Could be…” Geoff caught himself almost immediately. “You’re avoiding the subject, Pattillo. I’ve told you what kind of games I think the Puppeteers are playing. I’m going anyway, for the fun of it. What makes you think you want to go?”

“The Core explosion.”

“Altruism is great, but you couldn’t be worried about something that’s supposed to happen in twenty thousand years. Try again.”

“How about the fact that if you’re going to be a damn hero, so am I.” Jack shouted, leveling a firm glare on Geoff. “You’re wrong about Michael and Gavin –especially Gavin. That guy would back out of a suicide mission, and Michael would follow him willingly. And-and why would the Puppeteers want to know anything about us, or the Porican either? What would they test us _for_? They’re leaving the galaxy –they’ll never have anything to do with us again.”

Jack’s glare dared him to retort.

“We don’t know much about the Puppeteer migration. We do know that every able-bodied, sane-minded Puppeteer now alive is on the move. And we know that they’re moving at just below lightspeed. The Puppeteers are afraid of hyperspace.”

“Now. Travelling at just below light-speed, the Puppeteers fleet should reach the Lesser Cloud of Magellan in about eighty-five thousand years. And what do they expect to find when they get there?”

“Us?”

“Us, of course. Humans and Porican, at least. Hell, maybe there’ll be a fucking dolphin or something too –who the fuck knows at this rate. By the time the Puppeteers reach the Cloud, they’ll have to deal with us…or with whatever kills us off. Knowing us, they can predict the nature of the killer.”

“They know we’ll wait until the last minute and run for it, and they know we’ll use the faster-than-light drives.” Jack agrees.

“Still want to go?”

Jack nodded, determined look on his face.

“Why?”

“I think I’ll put that answer on hold.” Jack’s composure was complete. And what could Geoff do about it? Had Jack been under nineteen, he would’ve called one of his parents –but, at twenty-five, he was a presumed adult. You had to draw the line somewhere.

As an adult, he had freedom of choice –he was entitled to expect good manners from Geoff Ramsey –certain areas of his privacy were sacrosanct. Geoff could only persuade and browbeat –and at that, he had failed.

Jack suddenly took Geoff’s hands and smiling, pleading, said, “Take me with you, Geoff. I’m luck, really I am. If Gavin and Michael didn’t choose right, you could wind up sleeping alone. You’d hate that, I know you would.”

He had Geoff in a box, really. He couldn’t keep him off Gavin and Michael’s ship, not when he could go directly to the Puppeteers.

“Alright,” Geoff mumbled, “we’ll call Michael.”

And, really, he would hate sleeping alone…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, this fic's not gonna have a set update time. It took me almost two months to write this chapter and a week to finally post it -so it's basically when I get time to, I'm going to work on it. But, hopefully I can pump out chapters faster than 1-3 months apart. I mean, that's how it's gonna be now the hiatus is over.
> 
> Also, really sorry for any mistakes. AO3 kept separating paragraphs weirdly and I've already gone through this thing about four times. It's also 5am, so I kinda gave up on another bout of editing.
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


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